


Ancient and Modern

by initialism



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Holodeck Sex, Kink Negotiation, Rape Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/initialism/pseuds/initialism
Summary: Deanna wants to experience more of the Ancient West, afterA Fistful of Datas.  A very specific sort of more.





	Ancient and Modern

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flowerdeluce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerdeluce/gifts).



Deanna felt faintly ridiculous, sneaking along the corridors of the Enterprise late at night to go to the holodeck in full gunslinger costume. She was a citizen of the United Federation of Planets. Moreover, she was, as her mother always liked to remind her, a daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, and if not heir to the Holy Rings, then heir to the heir. She should, she thought as she ducked behind a couch at a large intersection when she heard footsteps, be capable of comporting herself with dignity.

She had no problem with people knowing she was going to the holodeck, even if they would have a very good chance of correctly guessing her reasons for going so late at night; she had never had any hang ups about expressing her sexuality. She didn't mind people seeing her in the costume; very few of them would really understand its significance, even if they did recognise it as being from Earth's Ancient West.

No, the reason she was sneaking around was to avoid two people in particular. It would be utterly mortifying if Worf -- or, worse still, Worf and Alexander, who had been known to take a walk around deck eleven if the latter couldn't get to sleep -- saw her. Alexander would know exactly what she was doing, and demand to join in. Worf would pretend to be reluctant and then do the same. All of which would mean that they would play Alexander's version of Deadwood, which would be fun, but it wouldn't be the fork of the program Deanna had carefully created using more of her free time over the past few days than she really wanted to admit.

It had started with the dreams. The first time, it had been part of one of those very vague, general sex dreams that she had sometimes; everything an impressionistic blur of arousal, the feeling of skin against skin, a mixture of memories of old lovers, and the beginnings of new fantasies. She'd thought for a moment she was dreaming of Data -- something that she had been known to do from time to time, and not something she thought signified anything much beyond the natural level of curiosity anyone would have about the possibilities of fucking a "fully functional" android -- until the singular detail of the moustache on the face looming above her made her realise who it really was.

She had read a _lot_ of Ancient West stories as a child. Really, it was almost inevitable that it would have been formative for her libido. She didn't need all her years of psychological training to know that.

After that, Frank Hollander had popped up in her dreams with increasing regularity, and in increasingly elaborate scenarios. It had got to the point where seeing Data on the bridge was enough to get her hot under the collar. By a combination of booking plenty of counselling appointments and taking shifts on the bridge when he wouldn't be present -- more difficult than it sounded, given his lack of need for sleep -- she had mostly avoided anything too embarrassing happening. She was sure Will had picked up _something_ via their residual empathic bond, but she doubted he would have been able to grasp the details. Even if he had, she trusted his discretion.

And so she had found herself deciding that she had to confront this head on. She was having recurring dreams about a holodeck character, Frank Hollander. He might have happened to look like Data at the time, but it was the "Frank" character that her brain, for whatever reason, had latched on to.

Having finally arrived at the holodeck, she activated the program and walked straight through the doors into Deadwood.

The street went silent as she walked down it, the townsfolk turning to stare. A crow took off from the roof of the general store and flew straight above her head, cawing loudly as it went.

As the first step in her modifications, she'd increased the difficulty to level 9, the maximum. Everyone around her thought that she was walking straight to her funeral.

As she walked up the steps to the saloon bar, she reached behind her back and casually picked up her shotgun. As she pushed her way through the small doors, she held it out level in front of her, pointing it directly at Frank, who was sitting down at the table directly in front of her. "So this is what you're supposed to look like," she said.

The holodeck Frank had sunken cheeks and a lean, wiry look. As though he was both malnourished and possessed of a fast metabolism.

"I ain't _supposed_ to look like anything," Frank said. "I _do_ look like me." He stood up. "And you've got some nerve, showing up here."

He nodded to his henchmen, who had been standing either side of the door. They grabbed Deanna, wresting the gun from her and throwing it away so that it skittered across the wooden floor of the bar. Then they forced her into a kneeling position, before one slipped off to grab a rope to tie her hands behind her back.

Frank crouched down, running a callused finger along Deanna's jaw. "There, now that's a bit better. Now we can have a civilised conversation." He stood up, the bulge in his pants directly level with Deanna's eyeline. "You can go now," he said to the pair standing behind her.

The henchmen, grumbling, left. She'd programmed that part in specially -- it was the one-on-one encounter with Frank she was craving, not some ... _other_ scenario. Just as she had programmed in the bondage she was now in; she had expected it to give the whole thing an extra frisson. As it was, nothing.

"Computer, freeze," she said.

Frank went completely still. Deanna looked at him; he was the intended villain of an entire sequence of Deadwood stories in the original holoprogram. And yet he didn't appear overly threatening to Deanna at all. Nor, she had to admit, was he as attractive to her as she had imagined. Perhaps she ought to have paid more attention to that part of the program when she was redesigning it, but in her head the mental image was absolutely of Data.

"Computer, alter the Frank Hollander character's appearance to match that of Lt Commander Data."

"Unable to comply," the computer said. "The use of crewmember likenesses in holodeck programs is restricted to training simulations only, according to a special order of Captain Picard, made Stardate 43832.4. Exceptions may only be made with the explicit permission of the crewmember whose likeness is to be used."

Deanna could hardly argue with that: she hadn't exactly been very happy with how Reg had been using her likeness. "Very well, computer: resume."

"You've interfered in my business for the last time," Hollander was saying. "Now I think it's time for a little payback." He was towering above her, reaching into his pants and slowly stroking his cock. "The way I see it, you've got two choices: you can suck my cock or-- Well, what do you know? I think you've only got one choice."

Without further ado, he dropped his pants entirely and his cock sprang out. It was now fully erect, a decent length but more importantly very thick. The skin was pale compared to Frank's weatherbeaten face and hands.

But it still wasn't as pale as Data's cock would have been, or at least, as Deanna's overactive imagination had decided it almost certainly was; she'd never had cause to see Data naked so had no real point of comparison. Nor did it have the same uniformity.

Deanna looked up at Frank, even as he glowered at her, and said sincerely, in her normal voice, "No, I'm sorry, Mr Hollander, this really isn't doing it for me." Then with a sigh, she added, "Computer, end program."

The yellow-on-black grid of the holodeck reformed around her; her bonds -- along with everything else in Deadwood -- disappeared.

She stood up and walked away.

* * *

Deanna had thought she was going to return to her quarters, but instead found her feet taking her towards Ten Forward seemingly of their own volition. By the time she arrived there, she decided they'd had the right idea; if she wasn't going to get off tonight, she might as well get drunk. Inebriated under careful metabolic control, anyway, she told herself; there was a lot to do in the morning.

It was only after she'd ordered her drink that she realised that Data was already present, sat at a table half-hidden behind a pillar.

For a moment, she thought about turning around and relying on the replicator to make her refreshments.

But then, summoning up all the courage that should be expected of a future Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, she stepped forward and joined him at his table.

"Good evening, Counselor," Data said. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Data," Deanna said. "I need to ask you a favour."

"I will assist you in any way I can, of course."

"I'm not sure you'll still be saying that when I've finished explaining."

"Intriguing," Data said. "You are asking me for something despite suspecting that I will not agree. Yet it is my understanding that many people consider friendship to be built on repeated reciprocal generosity."

"Data," Deanna said. "If I thought there was no chance at all of you agreeing, you're right, I wouldn't ask. But I'm not certain, and it's a little ... embarrassing."

"You have never struck me as someone prone to embarrassment."

"Which should give you an indication of how ... delicate a matter this is," Deanna said.

"A valid point," Data said. "So, what is the favour you wish to ask of me?"

"I was hoping you would agree to allow me to use your likeness in a holodeck program," Deanna said. She reached for her drink as soon as the words were out of her mouth and took a large swig.

"I am more than happy for you to do so," Data said. "Are you creating a new psychological evaluation tool for junior members of the crew and require my presence for verisimilitude?"

The easy option would be to let him assume exactly that. But the principle behind the rule was entirely right, and Data's consent wouldn't be meaningful if he didn't know the real purpose. "It's rather more personal than that."

Data looked at her for a long moment, then glanced down at her costume -- surely an affectation on his part, as he would have taken it in the moment he saw her -- then looked back into her eyes. "Am I to take it that this is somehow in relation to the recent incident in which the holocharacters were overwritten with my body pattern?"

"It is," Deanna said. She looked down, then around to see whether anyone else was listening in on their conversation. They didn't seem to be, but she dropped her voice to a whisper anyway to say, "I have developed intense sexual feelings about one of the characters. But, as it turned out when I went to the holodeck just now to try and work through them, they're only there when he's you. I mean, has your appearance."

"I see," Data said. "Does this explain why you have been avoiding me for the past several days?"

Deanna took an even larger swig from her glass. "You noticed that, then?"

"At first I believed that it might just be coincidence, but as time went on the probability became very low; moreover, the scheduling conflicts were all ones that were within your control to engineer if you so wished; as a result, I increased the probability I assigned to the hypothesis that it was deliberate on your part."

"I'm sorry," Deanna said. She put a hand on Data's knee. "It's all been a little bit much to cope with. It's not that I'm attracted to _you_ \-- that came out wrong, I'm sorry. Seeing you reminds me of _him_ , and it's very distracting."

"I am willing to assist you," Data said.

"I can use your image?" Deanna said. "You won't think it's strange?"

"As far as I am concerned, there is no difference between you using my image on the holodeck or in your own mind when fantasising. Since I have no right to, and would not seek to, regulate the latter activity, it strikes me as illogical to attempt to do so with the former. I am aware that others feel differently on this point."

"Thank you, Data, I really appreciate it."

"However, I do have an alternative proposal."

Deanna was startled. "You do?"

"I could assist you directly if you so desired."

"Data, I--"

"I am not proposing a full romantic relationship," Data said calmly. "As you know, my attempts at such have not been particularly successful. However, there remain many areas of my sexual functionality that I have never had the opportunity to explore but would be interested in doing so, and so it seems as though we might be able to have a mutually beneficial arrangement."

Deanna rearranged the words slightly in her head. "You're suggesting we become 'friends with benefits'?"

"I believe that is one term popular amongst humans," Data said. "On Betazed, is there not the similar concept of _athazadi_ relationships?"

"That's ... a lot more complicated," Deanna said. In a fully telepathic society, taboos were few and far between, since everybody knew everybody else's most intimate thoughts. Attraction -- even detailed fantasies -- could be instantly mutually recognised, and acted upon immediately if both parties desired. Sometimes an _athazadi_ might turn into an _imzadi_ \-- someone you developed a deep and permanent bond with -- but in most cases you and your partner or partners had a pleasant, mutually satisfying encounter and got it out of your system.

Which was, to be fair, exactly what Deanna had been trying to do in relation to Frank Hollander.

She was dimly aware that Data had been listing off different species' concepts of short-lived relationships, however tenuous the links might be, as she mulled it over. "For Andorians, of course," he was saying, "pair bonding is less important than the formation of quadrupole relationships, and so there are often many short-lived encounters between different smaller groupings before a stable arrangement is found. Whereas on Cardassia--"

"I've thought about it, Data," she said. "And I'm willing to give this a try if you are."

"I am pleased to hear that," Data said. "Would you like to commence immediately?"

Part of her very much did, but her wiser self prevailed. "Let's talk about it tomorrow," Deanna said.

* * *

_He was watching her, hunting her. Whenever she stopped and turned, he would be there, following her implacably. She knew that if she stood her ground, tried to fight back, he would overpower her. She wanted that, and yet didn't. And so she ran._

_She ran along the main street of Deadwood, her boots scuffing against the dust, her hat flapping in the wind she made for herself._

_She ran naked through the grassy meadows near her home on Betazed, where her first sexual encounters had taken place, that long summer so long ago._

_She ran across the great plaza in front of the Starfleet Academy building in San Francisco in her cadet's uniform. Five centuries earlier, her pursuer wouldn't have been out of place there at all._

_She ran along the corridors of the Enterprise. Her friends were nearby, they would help her. She raced through the open doors of Data's quarters--_

_And there he was, Frank. In front of her now, not behind her. The doors closed._

_He was too fast for her, and too strong. Within moments, he had her bent over the table, pinning her arms behind her back with a single hand. He took her roughly, selfishly, her own pleasure irrelevant to him, any pain she experienced only spurring him on. But that was exactly what her body had wanted all along, and she got wetter and wetter as he drove his preternaturally smooth cock into her over and over again, tirelessly, remorselessly._

When it came, Deanna's orgasm was so powerful that she startled awake. She sat bolt upright, breathing hard. As she recovered herself, she smiled; climaxing in her sleep was something that hadn't happened to her in a _long_ time.

She fell back to the sheets, idly fingering herself as she drifted back into a now-dreamless slumber.

* * *

"I have reviewed your modified holoprogram," Data said.

They were in his quarters the next night, sat on the couch. Deanna's eyes kept being drawn to the table that she'd been pressed down against in her dream. The mere memory of how intense it had been was making her wet.

"You appear to be exploring submissive fantasies," Data said. "More specifically, ones in which you are prevented from giving your informed, enthusiastic consent to the sexual activity taking place."

"That's right," Deanna said. "Are you comfortable with that? I could come up with something else, if you wanted. Durango capturing Frank, for instance ..."

"I believe that I can readily recreate the behaviours you had coded into the Frank Hollander character using the relevant subroutines of my sexuality programming. Would you be willing for me to improvise, or would you like me to follow the parameters of the program precisely?"

"What will help you get something out of it?" Deanna asked. "I don't know that this would really count as a ... what did you say last night? mutually beneficial arrangement, if you were merely following a script that the holodeck computer could have done just as well. In that case, you may as well just let me use your likeness."

"I might vary the type, intensity and duration of sexual activities," Data said. "I might also develop the 'Frank' character further in ways that occur to me at the time."

"That's fine, Data," Deanna said. "I trust you."

"That is good to hear," Data said. "However, you will effectively be consenting at this point in time to have me ignore apparent non-consent later. In such circumstances, my programming insists that we should ensure that you have a mechanism to allow you to opt out of--"

Deanna smiled as she cut him off. "We'll be performing roles, Data," she said. "If I call you 'Data' instead of 'Frank' while we're in there, you'll know that I want to step outside the role." She put a hand on his elbow. "And the same goes for you: if you start to feel uncomfortable, just call me 'Deanna' instead of 'Durango'."

"I do not believe that I will feel uncomfortable," Data said. "But I thank you for your concern."

"Is there anything else you want to discuss in advance?"

"It may help me to understand some of what attracts you to the scenario in general."

"It's a number of things," Deanna said. "The feeling of being helpless can be very arousing ... You know, I think part of what made the difference between the version of Frank that was 'you' and the version I met on the holodeck last night was that the characters overwritten by you had your abilities, as well as your appearance." If Data had a reaction to that confession, it didn't show on his face, but then things rarely did. "But there's also the idea of being irresistible to the aggressor, and the objectification, being 'used'. It's all a big complicated melange of feelings. Added to that, on Betazed, we really don't have any significant sexual taboos, but it is _relatively_ unusual for women to explore that side of their sexuality. So there's something exciting about that, too."

"I was referring to the setting, in Earth's Ancient West," Data said. "But I now realise that I was being ambiguous. The information you have just given me will be helpful, however."

"Oh, I've been interested in the Ancient West ever since I was little," Deanna said. "My father used to read me the stories, we'd watch old films."

"I see," Data said.

"As I got older, I began to realise that certain scenarios from those sorts of stories popped up in my fantasies rather frequently." She laughed at her past self as she said, "I used to be rather confused about my submissive side, as it happens. I thought it must be part of my human heritage, given the way my mother and father's relationship seemed to work. I was a lot older before I realised that all sorts of people liked all sorts of things." She shook her head, bringing herself back to the present day. "So, Data, do you want to do this here, or on the holodeck?" Involuntarily, her eyes were drawn to the table again.

"I believe the holodeck would be most appropriate," Data said. "I would ask that you give me a few minutes' head start."

"I'll get changed here, and then follow you," Deanna said. "How about that?"

"An excellent suggestion," Data said. Without any further ado, he got up and headed for the door. In the doorway, he looked back, "I find that I am anticipating this encounter with considerable expectation of it being mutually gratifying."

"I'm looking forward to it too, Data," Deanna said. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

* * *

When she walked into Deadwood, it was growing dark. Oil lamps swung from a few storefronts, but the bar was clearly becoming the centre of gravity of the town as night grew closer. People were walking towards it in ones and twos. None of them seemed to notice Durango at all, a marked contrast from her last visit.

The first poster was on a telegraph pole: a rough drawing of her face, the word "WANTED" emblazoned above it. She tore it down, and looked closer. "ALIVE," it said underneath, then "Reward: $10,000". A small fortune, by the standards of the time, as far as Deanna understood.

How _exactly_ had Data changed the scenario?

As she walked on, she spotted more and more of the posters, stuck to wooden walls all over town. The sheriff's office in particular was practically wallpapered in them.

It seemed an obvious invitation to go inside, so she did. She kept her hand on her shotgun, ready to draw should it prove necessary.

The sight that greeted her when she opened the door was Data, or rather Frank -- his feet up on the sheriff's desk, the spurs gouging a hole in it; a half-smoked cigar dangling out of his mouth; and a gleaming sheriff's badge on his chest.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, swinging his legs onto the ground before standing up and walking over to her. "Ain't this quite the turn of events? You planning to claim your own reward?"

"The people of Deadwood would never make you sheriff," she said, bringing the shotgun level with Frank's face. "What have you done?"

Frank pulled the shotgun out of her hand and twisted the barrel easily, making it useless. "I think you'll find the locals are more open to persuasion than you might think," Frank said. "Once they realised that their best interests lay in going along with me -- a lesson you'll be learning soon enough, my dear --" he reached out and stroked her cheek, gently pushing a stray strand of hair back "they were only too happy to fall in line. 'Yes, Sheriff Hollander', 'No, Sheriff Hollander', 'Three bags full, Sheriff Hollander'. And do you know, I have a one hundred per cent success rate; in my time here as sheriff, not a single crime has been committed! Not a single one!"

"Because you told your boys to stop misbehaving, you mean," Deanna said.

"Well, that's as maybe," Frank said. "The simple fact of the matter is, the way things are going to be done in this town from now on, it's itinerant gunhands like yourself who are the ones we're going to be catching before they can cause trouble. I'm sure there's someone out there in some town you've visited before who'd agree to press charges for something you've done ... with the right inducement. Until I find out who that is, though, you're just going to have to stay right here in the cells."

As he'd been speaking, Deanna had been trying to back away, but when she was nearly at the door, Frank too two big strides and across the room and grabbed hold of her, holding her tightly by both wrists. "Nuh uh uh," he said. "Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be."

Deanna struggled uselessly against his grip as he dragged her over towards the cell and shoved her in.

He locked the door and went back to the desk, starting to clean his gun methodically and slowly. When it was finally ready, he loaded it and pointed it straight at her, holding her gaze for a long moment before finally putting it away.

Deanna slumped down against the wall, performing it as sullenness, but really wanting the chance to sit back and revel in the feeling of being in Frank's power that Data had been expertly engineering with this whole scene. She was dripping wet by now, and becoming rather desperate for something to happen. Yet the very fact that there was no guarantee that anything would be happening soon was part of what was so arousing.

After a while watching Frank chew a piece of hay in his mouth, Deanna decided that maybe she should push things along a little. As quietly as she could, she started tapping her toes on the floor, gradually moving her feet across to look for anywhere there might be weaknesses.

"You wouldn't happen to be looking to escape there, would you?" Frank said. "That would be a big mistake, I assure you. And really quite pointless. I've been in that cell enough times to know that there ain't no way out of it short of your friends coming to blast you out, or a lawyer coming to talk you out. And you ain't got neither of those things right now, have you?"

Deanna stood up and started tapping at the wall, abandoning any pretence at subtlety.

"Oh dearie, dearie me," Frank said. "That is not the sort of behaviour we like to see from our prisoners, not the sort of behaviour we like to see at all." He crossed to the door and started fumbling with the keys -- given that Data would have no problem instantly identifying the right one, Deanna chose to read that as his him acting Frank's own increasing arousal -- which gave her time to position herself for her escape attempt.

As the door swung open, she tried to dart through it. But Frank, was, of course, too quick for her, and within moments she was shoved back up against the same wall she'd just been stood against voluntarily. With one gloved hand, Frank held her to the wall by the head, his fingers digging into her hair; with the other, he was pulling down her leather pants.

Once the pants were down around her ankles, she felt that same hand thrust between her thighs, cupped upwards to grab her mound. The cold of the leather against the heat of her skin just made her even wetter. "I thought so," Frank snarled. "You're just a whore deep down, ain't you? Worse than a whore, you _want_ this."

"No!" Deanna moaned, her mouth squashed against the wall, even as she was thinking: _Oh, yes._

The hand disappeared for a moment as Frank undid his own clothes. His cock pressed up against the flesh of her ass for a moment, before he let go of her head to pick her up by the hips and slide her backwards onto it. She scrabbled with her hands for the wall as her feet dangled a few inches in the air, her whole body suspended from Frank's cock.

It felt every bit as glorious inside her as she had dreamed of, smooth and firm. She could tell that Frank was fucking her roughly, rocking himself back and forth, but the friction was entirely pleasurable in her aroused state. She could feel an orgasm approaching--

Which was when, without warning, he stopped, pulling out and using the hands on her hips to put her back on the floor. Deanna collapsed against the wall, moaning.

"Something wrong?" Frank said cruelly from the other side of the cell.

"Please," Deanna said. "Please ..."

"So you do want it?"

"Yes," Deanna whimpered. "Yes, damn you." She looked up at him, as fiercely as she could manage.

"Show me," Frank said. "Take off your clothes."

She pulled off her boots so that she could shake off the pants and underwear that had stayed trapped around her ankles even as Frank had been fucking her. Then she shucked off her jacket and removed the shirt underneath.

"Come over here," Frank said.

Without needing to be told, Deanna dropped to all fours and crawled the short distance towards him. Actually seeing Frank's cock -- Data's cock -- for the first time, it was even more impressive than she had imagined; for a moment, she wondered exactly how much control he had over its dimensions. But then she felt his hands in her hair, pulling her towards him. She reached out with her tongue, but Frank pulled sharply back on her head and said, "Ask first."

"Please," Deanna said. "Please may I suck your cock?" She looked up into his eyes. "Show you how much I want it?"

"Show me the respect due to my rank, and I'll consider it," Frank said with a thin smile.

"Please may I suck your cock, Sheriff Hollander?" Deanna said.

"That's right," he said. "I'm Sheriff Hollander, and you're just a whore. _My_ whore." He slid his cock into her mouth in one smooth motion, so that it nearly met the back of her throat. Deanna dropped her lower jaw to try and take it further, then began sliding her lips up and down it, working her tongue along the underside of the shaft.

After a few minutes, she pulled herself off, and said, "Data?"

"Computer, freeze program," Data said, although it was hardly necessary as there were no other characters around. "Is everything all right?" he asked, his voice -- his usual voice -- full of concern.

"It's very good, Data," Deanna said. " _Very_ good."

"Then why are we stopping?"

"Pausing, I would say, Data," Deanna said. "But ... well, it occurs to me I don't understand everything about your ... physiology."

"Are you referring to my penis?"

"Without wishing to sound like I'm boasting, any other man would have come by now from that blowjob."

"Ah," Data said. "Would it gratify you if I did? Or rather, if Frank did?"

Deanna twitched her lips, suddenly shy despite the situation she was in. "I want Frank to fuck me again," she said quietly. "But it did make me wonder ... do you come?"

"I am capable of ejaculation, if that is what you mean," Data said. "But I do not experience orgasms in the same way as organic life-forms do. I can program certain thresholds into my subroutines for simulating the appearance--"

"It was the ejaculation I was thinking of, if I'm honest," Deanna said. "I want that."

"It would make you feel ... used?" Data speculated.

"In a _very_ good way," Deanna said.

"Very well," Data said. "Computer, resume." And then in Frank's voice, "I don't recall telling you to stop doing what you was doing."

He grabbed her by the hair again and pulled her back onto his cock, more roughly this time, and soon he was fucking her face rather than receiving a blowjob. Deanna felt herself getting even wetter as it went on.

Eventually, though, Frank stopped, and pulled her head off his cock with a sigh. He let go and Deanna's head flopped forwards slightly. She heard and felt, rather than saw, Frank circling around her. Then, before she really knew what was happening, he was kneeling between her legs, his cock once again pressed against the side of her ass.

"Please ..." Deanna said.

"You know how to ask nicely now, don't you?" Frank said, mockingly.

"Please, Sheriff Hollander, fuck me. Fuck me like your whore."

"You are my whore," Frank said.

"Yes," Deanna said, defeated and elated all at once.

And as she said it, Frank slid inside her, hands grabbing her hips just as they had up against the wall. The whole scenario up to this point had turned Deanna into a coiled spring of arousal, and this final fucking was almost enough to release the tension immediately, but the moment passed and then Frank was pistoning in and out of her with no thought for her pleasure at all. Rational thought deserted her as Frank continued to fuck her hard, and all she could do was groan and shout with each thrust, and press down hard on the floor to stop her arms from collapsing awkwardly downwards.

She was just on the brink of orgasm when Frank came himself; she could feel his come filling her up, and that then was enough to drive her over the edge. She stayed in place, propped up on all fours, panting, for a good minute or so.

"Deanna?" Data said.

"Yes, Data?"

"Do you wish to adopt a more comfortable position?"

Deanna thought about it. "Not right now," she said. "I want to feel you inside me for a little longer."

"Did the experience live up to your expectations?"

"Oh, yes, Data. _You_ were very, very good."

"Were the adaptations I made to the scenario--"

"Data," Deanna said. "Can we talk about this later? I don't want to fill in an immediate post-orgasm customer satisfaction survey."

"Understood," Data said.

Eventually, she did have to move, shimmying forward off Data's cock. Turning round, she watched with amusement as it shrank back down to its usual size. The process was no more or less comical than it was in most other males, but rather different nonetheless.

Deanna looked around the cell for her clothes. Data put his pants back on rapidly.

"Do you wish me to accompany you to your quarters?" Data said once they were both dressed. "Or should I invite you to mine?"

"That's very kind of you," Deanna said. "But we don't need to do anything like that. Unless you want to?"

"I am unconcerned about our post-encounter sleeping arrangements," Data said. "Then I will see you in the morning, on the bridge?"

Deanna smiled. "Yes," she said. "I'm not going to be feeling the need to avoid you, any more. In fact, rather the opposite."

"I am gratified to hear that," Data said."

Deanna smiled broadly at him. "Computer, arch," she said, and stepped towards the doorway when it appeared.

"Sleep well," Data said.

"Oh, I will, believe me," Deanna said.

"Would it be appropriate to say 'sweet dreams'?"

"Well," Deanna said with a grin. "I'm not sure about the 'sweet' part, but they'll definitely be _good_ ones."


End file.
